Goodbye to You (11 page)

She’s sleeping so peacefully. I hate to wake her, but I am starving since we skipped lunch. I ease my arm out from under her head, her silky hair tickling my arm as I slide it out.

Success.

My feet slap the cold tile floor, and I bend to retrieve my discarded boxers.

Wow. Her face, softened in sleep, had been so expressive when I touched her, tasted her. The last few days have been crazy.

Not the way I’d expected my last days in Key West to be. I’m not complaining. These had been the best days ever.

I’m young, with my whole life ahead of me, but I’ll never forget this.

Never forget her.

I fish my phone out of the pocket of my discarded wet shorts and order a pizza from Brenda’s around the corner, then grab a dry shirt and shorts. Leaving a note on the pillow, I walk out and ease down the narrow stairs, slick with leaves blown free by the storm. The streets are mostly clear of people, but a few chickens had come out of hiding, pecking at the dark purple berries mottling the sidewalk. The rain hasn’t cooled the temperature. Instead, the heat and rain combine to create an outdoor sauna, which intensifies the pungent scent of orchids wafting from our neighbor’s backyard garden.

Thea complains the humidity wreaks havoc on her hair, but I love it loose and wild. I enjoyed the way it tickled my legs when she arched her head back when she was riding me.

It sucks she’s leaving tomorrow afternoon. I wish I’d met her sooner on her trip. Two weeks with Thea would have been heaven.

I’ll settle for one more night even though it’s not enough.

I whistle, something I’m not inclined to do, and it’s a happy song.

Brenda’s is empty of customers, but Jack, the delivery driver, is stacking boxes to throw in the car. Lots of delivery orders tonight. Storm clouds still loom in the distance, and folks don’t want to get stuck out in the rain.

Brenda is working the counter. “Come to help out? Busy night with deliveries. I could use an extra set of wheels.”

My first job in high school was here, and I laugh. “My days of driving pies are done, thanks. Just here to get my own.”

She peeks into the oven. “Cheeseburger pizza?”

“Yep.”

She opens the door, and the heat from the oven behind the counter blasts my face. Even with the window AC unit running, the store is scorching.

I pay with a twenty, and though the pie is fourteen dollars, I stuff the change into the tip jar. Local businesses like Brenda’s struggled during the national downturn, and I want to do what I can to help her get back on her feet.

I walk out and whistle the happy song again as I head back home.

I take the steps two at a time and head into the apartment. “Hello?” I call out.

No answer.

The bed’s empty, the note where I left it, and the bathroom vacant.

I check the floor.

Her clothes are gone, and her purse too.

Crap.

She left. A vise crushes my chest.

I grab my phone from my pocket, text her, and wait.

After a few minutes, still no response.

Impatient, I dial her number, pacing, walking outside. I can’t stand still.

From the landing of the stairs, I swear I hear her phone ringing from across the narrow strip of yard separating the garage and house, but no one answers.

I hang up, and the ringing stops. I sprint down the stairs and dart up the back porch to the airy kitchen of the main house.

Mom and Thea sit in the homey, sunshine-yellow kitchen, sharing tea and perusing old photos at the farmhouse table.

Thea smiles sheepishly, her face glowing red. What’s that all about?

“Hey, honey!” Mom gets up and grabs a soda from the fridge for me since I’m not big on tea. She points at the chair next to her and takes her seat. “Sit. I’m getting acquainted with your new friend. Your father told me all about her last night. She’s lovelier than he described.”

She takes a sip of her tea, glancing between the two of us, her eyes questioning.

Thea flushes again. “Thank you, Mrs. Kelly.” Her voice is quiet, her eyes cast to the floor.

“Please, call me Dina. I saw your light on, Shay, and went to check on your dinner plans. Your dad’s working late and Mac’s staying on for a couple hours at Paddy’s. You didn’t answer your door, so I went in and found Thea.”

Another sip of tea. Her eyes crinkle at the corners, and she hides a smile behind her mug.

Glad she has something else to focus on instead of obsessing about Mac and the car accident.

Mom wasn’t telling the whole story, so I’d ask Thea when we were alone. “Oh, yeah, dinner. I got a pizza. Let me go grab it.”

I hate to leave Thea alone with Mom, but there’s no way Mom’s letting us both go, figuring we wouldn’t come back.

I return with the box a minute later, and Mom’s got the china out. For pizza. Not a typical Kelly dinner served on paper plates with soda or beer right out of the bottle.

“Thea, sweetie, what would you like to drink? Soda, beer, iced tea . . .”

I mouth at her, “Beer. BEER.”

She covers her mouth and clears her throat. “Water is fine, Mrs. Kelly.”

“Keep calling me ‘Mrs. Kelly’ and I’ll insist you call me Mom.” She guffaws, but Thea’s face flushes crimson.

I cover my eyes with my hand. This isn’t awkward at all. I glance at Thea and mouth the words “Eat fast” while Mom’s head is stuck in the fridge.

I wash my hands and dole out two slices to each plate, putting the box in the center of the rectangular table.

Mom’s still sitting between us, and with the photo albums piled on the far end of the table, I’m stuck here on the opposite side.

“Thea, are you still in school?”

“C’mon Mom, can we eat?”

“Seamus . . .”

I cringe and stop talking. That’s her pleasant way of saying “Shut your mouth.”

“Yes, ma’am, I still need to complete my student teaching. My mama was an elementary school teacher, and I’m following in her footsteps.”

“So sweet. I love being around little kids, despite their propensity to spew bodily fluids. They’re much more pliable before they hit puberty.” Mom pinches my cheek.

I swat her hand away.

Thea’s forehead scrunches.

I explain, “Mom’s a pediatric nurse. She was working the ER the night we met her. We’d moved here weeks before, and I was sick. High fever, chills, the whole thing. Da panicked and dragged all three of us to the hospital at three in the morning.”

Mom laughs. “What a sight. Ed, this bear of a man, was near crying. A tiny one clung to his leg, and another ran circles around the waiting room. And this one, pale and shaking and sweating in his brawny papa’s arms.”

Mom’s face relaxes as she gets lost in the memory.

“You reached to take me from Da, and I puked on you.” The thing I remembered the most, though, was how safe and warm I felt in her arms. Rose wasn’t the most . . . attentive and favored my twin Liam. Mom’s maternal touch was a welcome sanctuary to the sick, sad little boy I was then.

My critical illness saved our family, made it whole.

Mom smiles again and touches my arm. She understands how grateful we all are for her every day.

Thea laughs lightly. “What a sweet story. Even with the vomit.”

“Ha. More pizza, anyone?” We all chuckle as I grab another slice. I worked up an appetite earlier and need my strength for later.

I plan to make the most of the hours left.

Without clothes on either of us.

Thea licks her lips and skims her fingers across the base of her throat, drawing my eyes to her chest.

I can’t wait to get out of here.

Mom’s phone buzzes and she checks her text. “It’s your father. He’s not working late, after all. The romantic old bugger’s planned a ‘secret date’ for us and told me to put on my ‘fancy dress.’”

She rises and heads upstairs, calling out, “You kids stay as long as you want.”

Thea and I glance at each other, hand wash the plates and glasses, and make a mad dash for the door.

“Mmmmmm. Uh-huh. Oh!”

I’m on the floor in front of Shay’s futon as his magic hands massage the knot out of my neck I’d gotten from sleeping at a funny angle earlier.

“Tell me.” His hands still. “Or no more neck rub.”

I gasp, my hand flying to my chest. “Blackmailer!”

He holds his hands up. “Doing what I must for the information I want.”

“Hrumph.” I mock-pout but tell him. “I was in the bathroom, and the water was running. I thought I heard the door creak open. If I’d known it was your mom, I’d have climbed in the shower and hidden.”

“But instead . . .”

“Instead, I went in your wardrobe and threw on one of your dress shirts but left it unbuttoned, trying to be sexy. I’m sauntering to the bedroom door, calling out, ‘Come ‘n get it, cowboy.’” My face burns at the memory.

He’s laughing so hard he might cry. “Did you really say ‘cowboy’?”

I nod, unable to speak. I’m so mortified.

He wiggles his fingers, gesturing for more.

“Then your mom comes through the door and we both stop dead. She eyes me from head to toe, suspiciously, of course.”

“And all you had on is my shirt?”

“Yes,” I squeak.

“She found out you’re a natural blond, at least.” He chokes on his laughter.

I grab the pillow lying on the floor and whack him a few times.

“Ow. Ow. OWWWW!” He throws his arms up in self-defense and grabs the pillow from me before clutching my wrists behind my back.

His hazel eyes glitter with mirth. I am not amused.

We’re kneeling on the floor, and his warm body presses to mine, my chest making direct contact with his.

What was I talking about? My mind goes blank, and my lungs constrict.

He releases my hands and yanks off his shirt. He’s so hot. I’d already seen him naked, or nearly so, a couple times, but I marvel all the same. The finely sculpted muscles of his chest, framed by sinewy arms, transition into a hard abdomen. The smattering of dark hair dusting his chest tapers to a fine point and disappears into the waist of his shorts.

Treasure trail, indeed.

He reaches to undo his shorts, sliding them from his slim hips.

If perfection is possible, I found it.